Giving In
by Sophia2012
Summary: Sara decides to give in to her heart this one time... Neal/Sara kinda fluff. One-shot. No spoilers.


I wrote this as a future chapter of my story "Hypnagogia" (I rarely write chronologically… don't know why actually, I just write what I'm in the mood for), but as I was writing I realized this could very well be a one-shot. Just some Neal and Sara fluff (which I really find very difficult to write, as I don't want to lose that cat-and-mouse element they got going on – but I reeaallyy miss them, so I had to satisfy my thirst _somehow_!), hopefully not too cheesy.

To my lovely Hypnagogia-readers: This chapter doesn't really give any storylines away so it's safe to read. Like I said: it's just something I felt like writing. I'm most likely going to use it in the future, so if you don't want to read it twice, I recommend you don't read it now.

To my lovely other readers: If – after reading this – you wanna know what happens before or after, please read my other story (Hypnagogia).

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><p>With his shoes in one hand and his hat in the other, he tried – as stealthy as his floor would let him – to leave without waking her up. He stopped when he heard her moving around in his bed; she lifted herself up on her shoulders and looked around confused till her eyes met his apologetic ones.<p>

"Ssh, go back to sleep. Peter called me in early this morning." His tone was a whispering one, never minding that she was awake now.

"M'okay." Her voice was thick with sleep and when he saw her fall back into bed, he continued slowly for the door.

"Neal?"

"Hm?" He turned around and saw that she was getting out of bed, wrapping a sheet tightly around her frame and draping one end over her shoulder – to prevent the sheet from falling, he assumed. Though the way the early morning sunrise kissed her bare shoulder with an orange-golden glow – she looked like a regular Greek Goddess – took his breath away for a second, forgetting about the sheet's practical use.

"What? You like?" Her voice playful and her eyes amused at his almost hungry stare. She walked over to him and met his arms, right in front of the balcony doors.

"Hm, I love." He murmured, while his lips couldn't resist the temptation the soft skin the curve of her neck had to offer.

A faltering breath left her body as his tongue and lips grazed her skin soft and tender, sending chills down her spine and stirring the still waters in the pit of her stomach. She opened her eyes and – remembering what she was about to say – pulled her neck away from him, forcing him to meet her eyes.

"Can we talk for a second?"

His eyes grew suspicious and his head backed away hesitantly. "Sssure?"

"Don't worry, you're not in trouble." She laughed softly.

He smiled, relieved that whatever was coming wasn't going to be difficult, and guilty for thinking it could be. His arms pulled her close again, "Then, by all means, talk," he murmured just before he buried his face between her earlobe and her jawline.

She let out an unstable, short laugh at his eagerness, allowing herself to enjoy for a moment – for there was no way she couldn't. A moment later, however, she pulled away again and gently lifted up his chin.

"What? I was listening." He objected.

"Neal." She pleaded, demanding his full attention. This was hard enough for her as it was, no need for any more distraction.

"Alright, alright," he admitted, "what do you wanna talk about?"

She took a deep breath, focusing her eyes on his suit-jacket for a moment before gathering up her courage and looking back into his eyes – which have grown suspicious again. "I wanna thank you, for everything-"

"Sara-" he cut her off to tell her that she shouldn't mention it: That it never even occurred to him to _not_ help her. That it felt nice – more than nice – to be able to do something for her, instead of the other way around.

But before he got the chance to say anything, her nervous laugh and rambling words interrupted him: "No wait, I have to say this," she waited a second to make sure he wouldn't interrupt her again, and continued, "I wanna thank you. So… why don't you come over to my place for dinner tonight?"

"No need to wait till tonight, you can thank me right now." Desire and playfulness covered his low voice, making it so much harder for her to resist. And when his lips found her upper lip, it took all the strength her weak knees had left her, to gently push him away.

"Stop it, I'm serious," she took a breath to recompose herself, "Today is kind of special and-" Damn, this was harder than she thought. For years, Sara had been doing the exact opposite of what her heart told her to. Ratio always winning the ever so known, old fight with emotion. To be fair, though, it wasn't really much of a fight anymore: She would simply not let her feelings guide her and eventually, she barely even became aware of them anymore. Until he had _bended_ (not _broken_, thank you very much) that lifeline.

"And I'd like to spend it with you." She finished quickly, figuring it was comparable to ripping off a band-aid: quickly and painless, barely noticeable.

But if the past week – and truthfully: Neal – has taught her anything, it is that no matter how desperate you wish for it, you can't control everything in life: Some things _just_ happen, and when they do, it's alright to just let it.

So, what the heck, why not give in to the countless – past ánd present – hopeless romantics, poets and dreamers and 'listen to her heart' for this one time?

Neal sensed the subtle stress in her voice, her resistance to melt in his arms and the fragile yet determined look in her eyes, and knew this wasn't your every day stay-at-home-dinner-date. Realizing that – for her – this must have been a big step, he nodded and replied: "Of course, I'll be there."

He felt her body unwind and the smile that spread across her face was a relieved one. "Good," she kissed him lightly, "thank you."

"Now go, you're gonna be late. I'll see you tonight."

He let out an annoyed grunt, reluctant to leave such a promising morning, but gave in knowing Peter would probably show up if _he_ didn't. After a quick kiss he let her go, put his hands in his pockets, and walked towards the door backwards: Allowing himself to memorize how the sheet wrapped around her curves, how the sunlight seemed to make golden threads from her hair, how her skin glowed a brilliant bronze and how fragile she looked with her cheeks coloring soft pink when his stare made her self conscious.

Allowing himself to appreciate the art.

Allowing himself to watch a dream while being wide-awake.

Neal opened the door and just before he could walk out, Sara remembered something and decided to have a little fun: "Neal?"

"Yes?" He stopped in the middle of the doorway and raised his eyebrow questioningly.

"_Is_ there something you could be in trouble for?"

Remembering her reassuring words from before ("don't worry, you're not in trouble") at his worried look, he trying not to grin. His effort was in vain, as a half smile crept across his face anyway, while he allowed himself to think of an answer that wouldn't be a lie.

"What joy is there in life, if there were no longer any mystery?" He looked at her out of her corner of his eye, flashing her his confident and yet mysterious grin.

She let out a sarcastic huff: "I don't think I'll ever have to worry about that, around you."

He simply smiled and shrugged with a self-assured ease only he could pull off, put on his hat, and walked out the door, closing it behind hims.

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><p>Please, puhlease, leave your thoughts: I'm a sucker for reviews! Thank you!<p>

Soph


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